“You know what happens if you don’t,” he says. “I can make one call and have you replaced by morning. Then who pays for Mommy’s pills, huh?”
The world tilts. My legs start shaking.
“On your knees,” he says again, voice low and satisfied.
I don’t want to. Idon’t. The mere thought of what he’s asking of me makes me sick.
But the panic squeezes my ribs, and my thoughts blur, and all I can think is:If I lose this job, I lose everything.
But if I do this…
If I just do this, maybe…
My knees buckle.
Softly, I let myself fall to the ground.
“Good girl,” Gerard rasps, hands already on his belt.
And then I hear a voice.
“Don’t you dare fucking touch her.”
I freeze. I look up to find Riccardo standing at the mouth of the alley like he’s been carved from the dark itself. His posture is straight, shoulders squared, eyes locked on Gerard with a calm that borders on terrifying.
“What the—” Gerard starts.
Riccardo doesn’t let him finish.
His fist cracks across Gerard’s face so fast I barely see it.
Gerard drops. Hard.
He tries to scramble up, wiping blood from his lip, but Riccardo grabs him by the collar and slams him against the wall. The sound echoes off the brick.
I drag myself up and flatten myself against the wall.
“You don’t touch her,” Riccardo says, voice low and even. Each sentence ends with a punch that cracks hard into Gerard’s face. It’s a sound all chefs know: the crunch of meat and bone. “You don’t talk to her. You don’t so much as fuckinglookat her, understand?”
Gerard coughs, wheezing. “What the hell—she’s just—just a cook?—”
Riccardo hits him again. Blood splatters across the wall.
“She’s notjusta cook,” he growls. “She is not yours, either.”
Gerard tries to speak, but all that comes out is a wet, broken sound.
He’s going to kill him.The realization hits all at once.He’s going to kill Gerard. For me.
“Stop,” I whisper.
I have no idea how he hears it. I’m too far, and he’s too busy crushing Gerard’s face into mincemeat, but somehow, he hears it.
His fist freezes midair.
He turns his head toward me. His dark amber eyes soften. Barely, but enough that the breath I’ve been holding slips out in a shaky rush.
Then the ground tilts sharply under my feet.
